


Clan Mudhorn

by MxTicketyBoo



Series: Space Dad and the Kid [2]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Baby Yoda's POV, Canon Compliant, Drabble, Family, Father-Son Relationship, Found Family, Gen, Home, ManDadlorian, POV Baby Yoda, POV The Child, Parent-Child Feels, Parent-Child Relationship, Post-Season/Series 01, Space Dad Mandalorian, The Child's POV, father-son feels, post episode 8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:15:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22534576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MxTicketyBoo/pseuds/MxTicketyBoo
Summary: The child reflects on the word father and what it means for him and the Mandalorian.
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), The Mandalorian & The Child (The Mandalorian TV)
Series: Space Dad and the Kid [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1621366
Comments: 3
Kudos: 145





	Clan Mudhorn

**Author's Note:**

> This is my second fic for The Mandalorian but my first attempt to explore the child's POV. I decided to put any shorts or drabbles I write under one series name, because in my head, these two and any others I write are happening in the same post-season-one timeline, but they can all be read as standalones.
> 
> As I said in my previous fic, my knowledge of SW canon is mainly limited to the movies, this show, and what I’ve absorbed over time via YouTube videos and Wookieepedia. I wouldn't call myself well-versed in all the lore, so please excuse any errors, and I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Thanks to rockdoll61 for the super quick beta read!

_By Creed, until it is of age or reunited with its own kind, you are as its father._

"Father," the one with the golden helmet and fur had said.

The child remembered that word. From _Before_.

_Before_ , there were soft murmurs, gentle touches, and a cozy place to rest his head. _Before_ , there was kindness, and he was wanted not by the Bad Men for what he could do or how they could use him, but for who he was to those around him. To his family.

Family was another word he remembered. It meant comfort and warm embraces. No gnawing hunger in his belly. No sharp yanks on his sensitive ears or orders to be quiet or hot, dark spaces he couldn’t escape. In the hazy recesses of his memory, there were faces that resembled the one he saw reflected in the Mandalorian’s gleaming armor and the shiny surfaces on the ship. There were others who looked like him, who spoke like him. His kind. His… people.

_Before_ was many moons and many suns and many planets ago.

Where his family was, he did not know. If they’d searched for him, they’d failed to find him. Instead, the Mandalorian had come for him. His protector, who’d saved him, betrayed him, and rescued him once again. He’d given the child to the Bad Men, different from those who’d first held him captive. He’d abandoned the child to fear and confusion and strange lights and pain. But the Mandalorian had returned to right the wrong, and now he shone in the child’s eyes as no one else ever had.

Whatever their dissimilarities, whatever their origins, the Mandalorian’s energy, that spark, the lightness that defined who he was and guided the decisions he made, resonated with something deep inside the child—a part where fuzzy recollections lingered, the faintest traces, sights and sounds of a place called _home_.

The Mandalorian hadn’t been there, at that place, no. It was the _feeling_ , a sense of belonging, of certainty and safety— _that_ was what the child remembered when he looked at the Mandalorian, when he rested on the Mandalorian’s chest at night and strong arms held him tight.

Those around them referred to the Mandalorian by different names. Mando. Din Djarin. Bounty hunter. Mercenary. Other titles the child hadn’t completely understood but recognized by tone of voice were meant to be unkind.

But it was the one in the gold helm who’d given him words to describe the feelings that had been itching at the back of his mind as he and the Mandalorian traveled together throughout the stars.

Father. Home. Not a place but a person. An unbreakable bond.

_“Take care of this little one,”_ the woman, Cara, had said before they left the planet with the sharp-clawed creatures that swept down from the sky and the burning, black-and-red rivers.

_“Or maybe it’ll take care of you,”_ added the man whose arm the child had healed.

It was then, after everything they’d endured, the child finally comprehended what they would be to each other.

Protector and protected.

Parent and foundling.

No matter where the winds carried them, a clan of two.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Between The Mandalorian and Good Omens, my creative fandom juices are finally flowing again, and it's made me so very happy to be writing. I hope I can bring a little bit of that joy to fellow fans of the show, too. Come find me on Twitter, @MxTicketyBoo. I'd love some fandom friends to chat with! <3


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